Alone At Last
by RavynRose
Summary: Roger's dead. Mark is finally Alone...save for Benny, Joanne, and Maureen, who are all alive in my book.
1. Chapter 1

Mark Cohen looked down at the headstone, falling to his knees, leaning his forehead to the stone, pressing against it.

"Fuck." he said quietly.

He looked up, hearing Benjamin Coffin III rustle to his side, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"I...in the end, I'm alone." Mark said in a sing-song voice, leaning into Benny's shoulder, sobbing.

Benny ran his hand comfortingly against Mark's back.

"You...knew this time would come." he said softly, instantly regretting his words.

Mark sniffled against his leather coat, leaning to look up at him.

"It's still hard." he hissed.

Benny smiled, leaning in and kissing his forehead.

"I know, buddy. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it." he retorted, looking to Roger Davis' headstone and sighing.

After a moment of silence, Mark pulled out off Benny's grasp, going to stand, but stumbling.

Luckily, Benny caught him before his head could _literally_ smash into the headstone.

"I miss him already, Benny. And it's only been a day!" he sobbed, leaning his head back onto Benny's shoulder as Benny lead him to a bench, gently sitting him down.

He sat down and blinked as tears fell.

He didn't bother to wipe them away.

Benny bit at his lower lip as he sat down beside Mark.

"I know this is probably not the best time...but what are you going to do about the loft?" he asked softly.

Mark slowly let his eyes trail to Benny's, glaring at him.

"Collins is gone, Mark. Maureen is with Joanne. You can't live in that loft alone. It's not safe." Benny said simply.

Mark snorted.

"You don't care about my safety. All you want is the rent." he exclaimed, shaking his head and leaning back against the bench, looking down at the ground.

"No, Mark. Fuck the rent. I'm worried about you. You became isolated when Collins died. Now that Roger is gone...I can't help _but_ to worry about you." Benny reprimanded.

Mark wrung his hands together, popping each of his knuckles.

"I'm fine." he insisted, bringing his sleeve to his eyes and wiping away the wetness.

Benny sighed, leaning forward, resting his head in his palms.

"Mark. Roger was the last one. You can't look over this as if it is nothing." he spoke.

Mark chuckled.

"I'm not the one talking about closing shop, am I?" he said angrily.

"Come live with me." Benny offered suddenly.

Mark's eyes shot towards him.

"Excuse me?" he questioned.

"In Westport. I want to keep an eye on you, Mark. Contrary to popular belief, I _do_ care." Benny explained.

Mark went to protest, but pulled back.

"Okay." he replied.

Benny narrowed his eyes.

"Really?" he inquired, doe-eyed.

Mark shrugged.

"It'll give me time to get back on my feet." he replied.

Benny reached out, patting Mark on his shoulder.

"I just...I need to gather some things at the loft. Pack some stuff up." Mark concluded.

Benny wrapped his arm tightly around Mark's shoulders, giving him a comforting squeeze.

"Roger probably still has so much shit lying about his room." he said in a reminiscing tone.

"You need some help with that?" Benny asked, standing, pulling Mark along with him.

Mark nodded.

"It's something I need to do alone." he replied.

Benny took him into his arms, and Mark accepted, wrapping his arms around Benny.

Benny pulled back, smiling as he turned and walked away.

Mark found himself back at the headstone, falling to his knees in front of it.

"I hope you're okay with this. I can't stay in that loft. Not alone. Benny's right. It's not safe." he said, reaching out and caressing at Roger's name carved into the stone.

"I can't believe I already miss you." he commented.

He blushed.

"I mean...you get what I mean, right, Rog?" he questioned.

He pulled his hand back.

"Roger Doger." he said quietly, laughing hysterically.

He bit at his lower lip before standing.

"Goodbye, Roger." he said in a finalized tone, turning and walking towards the bike rack.


	2. Chapter 2

Walking up the stairs to the loft was a tedious task for Mark. 

He gripped so hard at the railings that his normally pale skin _glowed._

Pausing at the top of the stairs, Mark almost turned and ran, but decided against it.

Slowly, he crept towards the door, sliding it open and walking in.

The minute his eyes fell on Roger's guitar, he could no longer stand.

He fell to his knees, breathing deeply, refusing to cry.

He shoulders shook as he silently wept.

"Mark?" a voice questioned, coming up beside him.

He looked up and found Joanne Jefferson looking down at him.

"Oh, Mark." she said softly, kneeling to sit beside him.

"I don't know what happened." Mark admitted, the world blurry through his tear-soaked eyes.

Joanne reached into her back pocket and pulled out a tissue, handing it to Mark, who wiped it hastily across his face.

"I need help. I can't move Roger's stuff on my own." Mark admitted.

Joanne smiled slightly.

"Maureen and I can help." she offered.

Mark swallowed, looking around the loft.

"It's not just Roger's stuff I'm packing up." he said slowly.

Joanne nodded in encouragement.

"Benny offered the use of his apartment. I can't stay here, Joanne. I can't." Mark explained.

Joanne soothingly ran her hands along Mark's left arm.

"I understand, sweetie. I couldn't stay if Maureen had died." she said soothingly.

Mark smiled bashfully, going to stand, finding he needed Joanne's help.

Once standing, he looked cautiously around the lot.

"Holy shit." he exclaimed in a whisper.

Joanne smirked.

"That's a lot of stuff." she commented.

Mark walked over to Roger's guitar, which lie on the couch, and picked it up, running his fingers gently along the strings, playing the only chord he knew how.

"Joanne, check Roger's room for his guitar case." he instructed.

Joanne nodded, passing him by and heading towards Roger's room, pushing open the door and walking in.

Mark set the guitar back down on the couch, looking back around the loft and sighing.

"Where the hell do I start?" he asked himself, deciding that the best place to begin was in Roger's room.

Joanne came out with the guitar case in her hands, holding it out to Mark, who took it graciously, and went about carefully putting the guitar into it.

"There's some boxes in the closet. Just...box up what you can. Fragiles, I guess." Mark said with a shrug, watching as Joanne went about just that.

He himself had a duty to fullfill in Roger's room.

He slowly made his way to Roger's room, and when he walked in, he had to grab onto the doorframe to keep himself steady.

Roger's bed had been made.

Mark narrowed his eyes.

He must have known of his impending death.

Mark rolled his eyes.

"Of course he knew, ya twit. He had HIV." he said hastily.

He walked further into the room, kneeling beside Roger's bed and ducking under it, running his hands around to see what came into his grasp.

When that something turned out fuzzy, he recoiled.

"Joanne! Joanne!" he exclaimed, pushing himself back against the wall.

Joanne came rushing in, her eyes darting throughout the room.

"What? Honey, what?" she questioned.

Mark pointed under the bed.

"There's something fuzzy under there." he replied, eyes raised in a childish manner.

Joanne rolled her eyes in a friendly way before ducking and reaching under.

She grasped the fuzzy object in her hands and pulled it out, chuckling.

She turned to Mark, holding it out to him.

Mark had his eyes tightly closed.

"I don't want to see it." he whispered.

Joanne set the object in Mark's lap.

Mark slowly opened his eyes.

"I guess Roger had a weakness." Joanne said, in good sport, of the teddy bear that lie on Mark's knees.

Mark laughed, taking the bear into his hands.

"Roosevelt." he said.

Joanne narrowed her eyes in question.

Mark blushed, running his thumb along the bear's head.

"I thought I'd lost him." he said quietly.

Joanne's eyes sparkled.

"He's yours?" she questioned.

Mark nodded.

"He was all I had when I moved to New York. Until I met Roger." he replied.

Joanne reached out, taking Roosevelt into her hands again.

"I'll pack him with the fragiles." she said with a wink.

She stood, holding out her hand for Mark to take.

Mark took it and felt himself pulled to his feet.

"You need anything else, just scream. Like you did. You're good at that." Joanne teased, disappearing out the door.

Mark crossed over to the other side of the room, going to Roger's dresser and opening every drawer.

It was barren and empty.

"What the fuck?" Mark cursed, slamming the drawers shut.

He crossed over to the closet and swung it open only to find that it, too, had been wiped clean.

He shook his head, confused.

Joanne came, then, knocking on the doorframe.

"Mark, there's not enough...what's wrong?" she asked.

Mark crossed his arms over his chest, turning to face Joanne.

"The place has been wiped clean. It's like he didn't want me to touch his stuff." he replied, wrinkles appearing on his forehead.

Joanne shrugged.

"Collins did the same thing." she reminded Mark.

Mark scoffed.

"This is different." he objected.

"I know, honey. I know." Joanne said, walking forward and wrapping her arms around Mark.

Mark pulled back.

"No. I need to get this done. I can't...there's no time for grief." he said, hastily skirting out of the room.

Joanne followed after him, her heels clicking with every step.

"Mark, stop." she hissed.

Mark growled low in his throat before pausing in his steps, turning to face Joanne.

"You cannot just look over this. You have to let it go. You can't harbor the pain you're feeling, Mark. It's not healthy." Joanne spoke.

Mark rolled his eyes.

"There's too much to do for me to take the time to grieve. I have to pack up. Donate things to the homeless shelter. I don't have the time!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air, turning and walking towards the loft door.

"You walk out that door, now, Mark, and you're letting Roger go without saying goodbye." Joanne yelled after him.

Mark stopped, looking at the door.

Then he threw his fist into it, sliding to his knees, the fist jammed into a hole.

Joanne rushed to his side, kneeling to inspect the damages, of both his fist and the door.

"Oh, baby." she said gently, reaching out and taking his fist from the door.

"Come with me." she said, wrapping her arms around Mark's waist, pulling him to a standing position and leading him to the kitchen table, sitting him down.

She quickly rustled over to the sink, running a washcloth beneath hot water and then coming back to Mark, placing the cloth on his wounds.

Mark winced, but found he was quite numb to the pain.

Joanne pulled the cloth back, taking in the amount of blood.

"Mark. Please. Talk to me. Talk to _anyone_." she pleaded, placing the cloth back down again.

Mark shrugged out of her grasp, taking the cloth into his own hands, holding it against his knuckles and letting the water drip.

"I don't know what to say." he admitted.

Joanne slid onto the stool next to him, placing her hand on his knee.

"Let it all out, sweetie. You'll feel better when you do." she insisted.

Mark bit at his upper lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Shit." he whispered at the taste of blood.

Joanne reached out, running her hand across his lips, wiping away the blood, bringing her hand to her pants and setting it there.

"When Collins died...I knew that Roger would be the next one. I just didn't know it would be so soon." Mark began, his eyes tearing up.

"I spent every waking moment trying to cheer him up. He was slowly letting himself go. He wanted to be with Mimi." he continued, choking on Mimi's name.

Joanne squeezed his knee encouragingly.

"The week before...the week before his death, he took me to Mimi's grave. He made me promise that I would continue to film, as he had been telling me for months, telling me that he would see it, wherever his soul departed to. And then he disappeared. For three days, I didn't know where he was. I worried sick. And then I got the call from Benny. Roger was in the hospital, dying of AIDS. AIDS!" Mark pushed forward, swallowing.

He looked into Joanne's eyes.

"He wasn't supposed to die of AIDS, Joanne." he said.

He looked down at his now swollen knuckled and continued.

"He was in a coma. Nothing, not even the doctors, could wake him. I spent two days of my life sitting by Roger's bedside, praying to whatever Diety exists, that he would open his eyes and be okay. That third day, he _did_ open his eyes. He made me again promise to keep filming. He put filming before his death." Mark said with a sob.

"And then he died. He just closed his eyes and died. He didn't even say goodbye." he finished.

Joanne reached out and ruffled his hair.

"I think in telling you to film...that was Roger's way of saying goodbye." she suggested.

When Mark didn't retort, Joanne sighed.

"Mark, Roger was never the best at portraying emotion." she said softly.

Mark let out a long sigh.

"I know. Trust me, I know." he replied.

"Come back with me to our place. I have some more boxes I could loan you." Joanne suggested.

Mark smiled.

"Yeah. I shouldn't be here right now." he said tortily.

Joanne stood, reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a cell phone.

"Let me give Maureen a head's up, okay?" she asked, turning and heading into a more private area of the living room.

Mark sighed and looked around the loft.

A box of cereal lie across from him, and beside it, an empty bowl, with Roger's favorite spoon resting at it's side.

Mark reached out and took the spoon tightly into his grasp.

Smiling, he tucked it into his pocket, not wanting to loose it amidst the packing.

"Maureen's gathering the boxes. You ready?" Joanne asked as she came back to Mark's side.

Mark raised his eyebrows and lifted himself from the stool.

"I'll never be ready." he admitted.

Joanne smiled and linked arms with him, leading him casually out of the loft.


	3. Chapter 3

Upon reaching Joanne's car, Mark froze. 

"What is it?" Joanne asked, opening the passenger side door for Mark.

"I just...reminiscing." Mark replied, sliding into the car, looking up at Joanne with pleading eyes.

Joanne shut the door and crossed over to the driver's side, climbing in and starting the ignition.

"Remember the good." she retorted, pulling away from the lot and into the street.

Mark slumped back against his seat, closing his eyes.

_He was back at the loft, watching as Roger stumbled in the evening after Mimi's death, drunk off his knickers._

_"Hey, Marky-Man!" Roger exclaimed, pushing his way over to where Mark sat on the couch, falling hard next to him._

_"You're drunk off your ass." Mark stated, not looking up from the book he was reading._

_Roger smiled brightly._

_"Shouldn't you, ya know, be grieving?" Mark asked, peering over the book at Roger._

_Roger laughed._

_"No time for that, my Marky! Too much to do!" he replied, cocking his head to the side and continuing to laugh._

_  
Mark rolled his eyes and set his book down._

_"C'mon, we've got to get you into the shower. You reek of cigarette smoke and perfume." he commented, kneeling down in front of Roger, peeling his boots off his feet._

_Roger looked down at him._

_"You're always there for me." he commented soberly._

_Mark smiled up at him as he pulled Roger's socks off._

_"Through thick and thin." he retorted, standing and reaching out to Roger, who grasped his offered hand tightly as he was pulled to his feet._

_Roger coughed as Mark wrapped his arm around Roger's waist and led him to the bathroom._

_"Until the end?" he pleaded through his voice and eyes._

_Mark pushed Roger into the bathroom, watching as he drunkenly pulled his shirt over his head._

_"That's a long time coming, my friend." he said, shutting the door as Roger went on to remove his pants._

_Ten minutes later, Roger appeared back at Mark's side on the couch, clutching at his head._

_"My head hurts." he whined._

_Mark chuckled._

_"Wait until the sun comes up. You'll want to crawl in a hole and die." he teased._

_Roger laughed along with him, reaching out and wrapping his right arm around Mark's shoulders, pulling him close._

_"Mark, I need you to promise me something." he started._

_Mark shook his head, looking to pull away._

_"No. Mark. Listen to me. You need to continue to film. You can't let my death hinder your career." Roger finished._

_Mark sighed, rolling his eyes._

_"Roger, your death is a long time coming. Let's not talk about it now, okay? Just...leave things as are. We'll end on a good note when the time comes." he pleaded._

_Roger caressed his arm tenderly._

_"Okay. Whatever you want." he offered._

Back in the car, Mark opened his eyes and found that Joanne was pulling into the lot for her and Maureen's apartment.

"A good memory, I hope." Joanne wagered, putting the car into park and pulling out her keys.

Mark smiled.

"He was always telling me that it was up to me how things ended. He told me that whatever I wanted, I deserved. I wonder why he didn't put that attitude towards himself." Mark asked, opening the door and hopping out, finding himself pounced by Maureen Johnson.

She pulled back, but not before placing a brief kiss on his lips.

"How are you, Pookie?" she asked as Joanne came up beside her and joined their hands together.

Mark shrugged.

"Once I get out of this place, I think colors will renew." he replied.

Maureen frowned.

"You're leaving?" she inquired.

Mark nodded, leaning back against Joanne's car.

"I have to, Maureen. I can't stay here. I was isolated enough with Tom's death." he replied, crossing his hands over his chest.

Maureen sighed listlessly.

Joanne squeezed her hand before she could say anything.

"The boxes?" she queried testily.

"Gathered together at the door." Maureen replied, her eyes straying back onto Mark, who averted his.

"Come on, Pookie." Joanne said sarcastically, leading her girlfriend to the door of the building.

Mark reluctantly followed, gracious that their apartment was on the first floor.

Joanne held the door open for him and gently touched his arm as he entered.

"You okay?" she asked, knowing that Maureen would be oblivious to Mark's emotions and wouldn't ask.

Mark shrugged.

"I need to sit. There's so much running through my head...I need to rest." he replied.

Maureen kicked open the door to their apartment and moved to the side to allow Mark to enter.

"You can rest on our bed, if you like. We washed the sheets last night." she offered with a wink.

Mark blushed.

Joanne rolled her eyes.

"The couch is also free." she offered.

Mark headed towards the couch, falling down onto it, sliding out of his coat and throwing it onto the coffee table.

Maureen picked the coat up and wrapped it over her arm.

"Ever heard of a coat hanger, Mark?" she asked hastily.

Joanne growled low in her throat.

"Not one for sympathy, are you, darling?" she asked, grabbing the coat from Maureen's hands and hanging it.

Mark found himself laughing.

"Is there ever a time you two _aren't_ fighting?" he asked.

Joanne and Maureen glanced at each other, quickly looking away, giving Mark his answer.

Mark eyed the boxes and curled up onto the couch.

Joanne appeared two seconds later with a blanket in her arms.

"Take all the time you need, sweetie." she said, laying the blanket over Mark, leaning in and kissing him on the forhead, ruffling his hair before she pulled back, grabbing Maureen and leading her to the kitchen area.

Mark let his eyes slowly shut, allowing his mind to let the memories flow freely into his subconsicous.

_"What are you doing, Mark?" Roger's voice drifted over his head._

_Mark looked up from his book and smirked._

_"I'm swimming the Atlantic, Roger. What does it look like I'm doing?" he teased, sitting up, allowing space for if Roger chose to sit beside him._

_"Sorry. I'm out of it." Roger apologized, shuffling on his feet._

_Mark narrowed his eyes._

_"Are you okay?" he asked, noticing Roger's sweaty forhead._

_"I'm...I don't know, Mark. I'm fine. I'm..." Roger stuttered, swaying on his feet._

_Mark jumped up on his feet, just in time to catch Roger as he fell forward._

_He pulled Roger to the couch and knelt down in front of him._

_"Did you take your AZT?" he questioned, his hands resting on Roger's knees._

_Roger coughed and rolled his eyes._

_"No, Mark. I'm skipping it, calling Death closer and quicker." he replied testily._

_Mark sighed._

_"Relax, Mark. I took my AZT. I've **been** taking my AZT." Roger said comfortingly._

_After a moment's silence, Mark spoke._

_"Do you **want** to die?" he exclaimed._

_Roger scoffed._

_"Yes, Mark. I want to leave behind everything that ever meant something to me for my soul to depart to some Hellish dimension." he retorted._

_Mark sighed._

_"I'm sorry, but...this attitude is getting you nowhere, Roger. Sometimes I wonder if Death would be better for you. You'd at least be with Mimi." he sneered._

_Roger gaped at him._

_"Is **that** what this about? Jealousy?" he exclaimed._

_Mark blanched._

_"No, Roger, it's not." he lied._

_Roger smiled, despite it all._

_"You'll always be my Marky-Man. Nothing can change that. Not even..." he began._

_Mark squeezed his knee in warning._

_"Don't say it." he hissed._

_  
Roger smiled slyly._

_"Not even Death."_


	4. Chapter 4

Mark awoke suddenly, the memory fading like a dream. 

He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, realizing his glasses weren't on.

He squinted and found them sitting on the coffee table.

Reaching out, he took them and placed them on the bridge of his nose, looking around.

"You're up." Maureen commented from her spot on the couch across the way.

Mark nodded.

"How long was I out?" he questioned, cracking his neck.

Maureen looked at her watch.

"An hour or two. It's night, now." she said, nodding towards the full moon which beamed through the glass windowpane.

Mark followed her eyesight and smiled.

"It's beautiful." Maureen commented, appearing behind Mark, wrapping her arms around his neck in a comforting way.

He took her hands in his, kissing her knuckles softly.

Maureen kissed the top of his hair before pulling away and falling next to him.

"Let's go for a walk." she suggested, reaching out and pushing Mark's hair out of his eyes.

Before he knew what was going on, Maureen had him up and heading out of the loft.

"What about Joanne?" Mark questioned as he was rushed down the stairs.

"She's asleep! Don't be such a worrier, Mark!" Maureen exclaimed, letting go of Mark and rushing out the door, spinning around as the snow began to fall.

Mark smiled at her beauty, illuminated by the glow of the moon and the sparkle of the snow.

"What?" Maureen asked as Mark walked up beside her, linking his hands in hers.

"I don't know. Reminisicing, I guess." he replied.

Maureen twirled him around in the snow enough for him to stumble and fall.

She fell with him, landing softly on top of him, giggling.

"Don't tell me...Roger took you and twirled you about in the snow?" she teased, placing her hand over Mark's heart.

Mark laughed.

"No, but everything brings something up, Mo." he replied.

Maureen lie her head down on his chest, wrapping her arm around his stomach.

Mark placed his left hand under his head as a means of support, running his other hand through Maureen's curly hair.

She looked down at him, and before he could stop himself, he was leaning forward, his lips upon hers.

Slowly Maureen opened her mouth, accepting his kiss.

She climbed on top of him, covering his body with her, wrapping her arms around him fully.

Mark let his head fall to the snow, wrapping his arms around Maureen's back, running his fingertips along the small of it.

"Mark..." Maureen managed, pulling back.

Mark looked up at her, wide-eyed.

"Oh, no." he said, pushing Maureen off of him, climbing to his feet.

He turned to Maureen, who stood, too.

"I'm sorry. I, I don't..." he attempted, running his hands over his face and through his hair.

"Don't. Baby, don't." Maureen whispered, reaching out and pulling Mark's hands from his hair, pulling them down to his sides.

"It's okay. Shh." she cooed, bringing Mark close.

Mark rested his head on her chest, sobbing uncontrolably as Maureen comfortingly ran her hands along his back.

She looked towards her apartment window just as Joanne peeked out.

She shrugged to Joanne who smiled fondly.

"C'mon, Mark. Let's get you inside. It's cold, and you're without a jacket." she commented.

Mark looked up at her through tear stained eyes.

"Mo, you're wearing sleeveless." he retorted.

Maureen just shook her head, linking arms with Mark and leading him back into the building.

Once inside their apartment, Mark reached out to the boxes.

"You're going back?" Joanne questioned from her seat on the couch.

Mark sighed, shrugging.

"I need to get things done. I want to get out of here as quick as I can." he replied.

"Pookie!" Maureen exclaimed, pouncing on Mark, holding him tightly.

He pulled her close, kissing her nose softly.

"I'll be just uptown with Benny. Mo, I can't stay here." he insisted, pushing Maureen off and into Joanne's lap.

Joanne wrapped her arms around Maureen's waist in a protective manner.

"You sure you don't want to stay with us?" Maureen asked.

Mark snorted, blushing immediately.

Joanne rolled her eyes, looking to Mark.

"It's an offer, nonetheless." she spoke, squeezing Maureen's sides tenderly.

Maureen wrapped her arms around Joanne's shoulders, pecking her on the lips.

Mark shivered.

"I need to go." he said, waving, grabbing the boxes, grabbing his coat from the hanger, and disappearing quickly out the door, just as Maureen turned to straddle Joanne.

He groaned as he walked down the stairs and out into the cold winter atmosphere.

He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing his hands up and down his arms in an attempt of heat.

It was then he realized he had to walk six blocks in this weather to reach his loft.

Cursing, he pushed forward.

Upon reaching the building of the lot, he threw himself through the doors, letting out a groan as he realized the heat was out.

Trudging up the stairs, Mark narrowly missed running into Benny, who was standing at the entrance to he and Roger's lot.

"Benny." he whispered.

Benny smiled.

"Set up some boxes for you." he commented, reaching out and taking a few of Maureen's boxes from his hands and pushing the door open for Mark.

Mark entered, setting the boxes on the floor and moving to let Benny do the same.

"Where'd you go? I stopped by earlier." Benny asked, sliding out of his leather jacket.

"Maureen and Joanne's." Mark replied, going over to the fridge, opening it and pulling out the last bottle of whiskey, popping the top and taking a large gulp.

Benny only stared at him.

Mark held the bottle out in offering.

Benny shook his head, holding his hands out palm first.

Mark shrugged, taking another gulp.

"Going at it rather quickly, there." Benny noted, sliding onto a stool.

Mark shrugged.

"Last night in the loft. Gotta make it worth it." he said, blinking.

Benny sighed, reaching out and taking the bottle from Mark's grasp, downing a few sips himself.

Mark accepted the bottle back, downing the rest of it, shaking his head.

"I haven't had a good drink since...since the night you found Roger." he admitted.

He smiled blissfully, leaning across the table.

"So _that's_ why you came into the hospital staggering. I thought you were just scared shitless." Benny teased.

Mark rolled his eyes.

"If only, man."


	5. Chapter 5

_Mark hurried over to the phone as it rang, answering it just as the machine picked up._

_"Mark Cohen residence." he answered._

_He had become used to calling the loft that. It gave him a reason to get his mind of off Roger's disappearance._

_He heard Benny chuckle on the other line._

_"That's new." Benny commented._

_Mark sighed, sliding back onto the couch, downing the last bit of Vodka he had found tucked away in the fridge._

_"Mmm." he retorted, blinking as the world became blurry to him._

_What was this, is fourth or fifth bottle of alcohol that evening?_

_He didn't remember._

_Nor did he care._

_"Why'd you call, Ben's knee?" he asked, laughing hysterically._

_He swore he heard Benny frown._

_"Mark, are you drunk?" Benny asked._

_Mark scoffed._

_"Ben, friend, me? Never!" he lied, biting at his lower lip to keep from laughing._

_He fell to his side, clutching the phone to his ear._

_"Benny. Benjamin." he said, as if he were a child testing out new words._

_"Mark, sober up." Benny insisted._

_Mark sniffled._

_"No. No." he retorted, pulling himself back into a sitting position, pulling the empty bottle of Vodka to his lips._

_  
"Fuck. I'm out. Hold on." he said, setting the phone down on the coffee table and skipping over to the fridge, opening it._

_"Shit!" he exclaimed as he realized there was nothing but Captain Crunch cereal and milk in the fridge._

_"Mark? Mark!" he heard Benny's voice from the reciever._

_"We're out!" Mark yelled, slinking his way over to the phone and picking it up, bringing it to his ear._

_"Mark, shut the fuck up and listen to me." Benny said sternly._

_Mark rolled his eyes._

_"Benny, no. Drinking is all I've got right now." he hissed, bringing the Vodka bottle back to his lips, savoring the last droplets._

_"Mark, Roger's in the hospital." Benny said gently._

_Mark let the Vodka bottle slip from his hands, shattering on the floor._

_"What?" he asked, falling to the coffee table._

_"I don't know the circumstances. I found him on the street, Mark." Benny explained._

_Mark brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his right arm around them, holding the phone to his ear wth the other arm._

_"He's in a coma, Mark. He wasn't awake when I found him." Benny continued._

_Mark dropped the phone from his hand, jumping off the couch and running out the door._

_"Mark?" Benny questioned, his voice echoing through the empty loft._

_Mark ran down the stairs and stopped on the street, blinking as the sun hit down on him._

_He shielded his eyes, holding out his right hand in an attempt to hail a taxi._

_After five minutes, he realized he was getting no luck._

_He rushed back into the loft, grabbing the phone._

_"Benny, I can't get a taxi!" he whined._

_"Mark, you went outside? Did you grab a coat?" Benny asked._

_Mark blushed, looking down at himself._

_He was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a wife-beater._

_"Mark, just sit down. I'll come get you." Benny offered._

_Mark nodded, falling to the couch._

_"Don't drink anymore!" Benny said, hanging up._

_Mark scowled._

_"We're out."_

"I still can't believe you went out into the cold like that. Mark, you could have gotten ill!" Benny exclaimed.

Mark shrugged.

"I wasn't thinking. I _couldn't_ think."

Benny reached out, taking the empty bottle from Mark's hands.

"C'mon. Let's go out. Have a drink or two more. Let this last night be resourceful." he suggested, setting the bottle onto the table.

Mark smiled.

"I could do that." he said saltily, going around the table and meeting up with Benny at the door.

Not an hour later, Mark was shit faced.

Benny, on the other hand, was sober as fuck.

Mark didn't question it.

He leaned back in his seat, thankful for Benny's presence.

"I miss him." he said quietly.

Benny smiled sympathetically.

"I really did love him." Mark said, blushing.

Benny chuckled.

"He was your best friend, Mark. You were kind of _required_ to love him." he teased.

Mark shook his head, taking the last sip of the beer into his mouth, swallowing it quickly.

"No. I mean I _loved_ him." he retorted.

Benny narrowed his eyes.

"Oh." was all he could find to say.

Mark continued on.

"When I first met him...I knew. You just know, ya know?" he said drunkenly, tossing the bottle onto the table, watching it roll off and shatter.

"And then Maureen showed up. Things got _so_ fucked up after that." he said, his eyes landing on a piece of glass that shimmered in the light.

"He was my light...the one that shined at the end of the tunnel. I couldn't tell him that. We were _straight_. Are straight." he said in a confused manner.

He caught Benny's gaze.

"I did love him. I just wish I had had the chance to tell him that." he admitted.

Benny smiled shyly.

"He knows, Mark. He knows." he said, catching Mark as he fell into his arms, crying, again.

"Don't tell anyone, Benny. Please." he pleaded.

Benny caressed the younger boys back gently.

"I won't. Not a soul." he promised.

Minutes passed where Benny just rocked Mark soothingly, Mark sobbing into his leather coat.

Mark eventually pulled back, wiping at his eyes beneath his glasses.

"God, I'm a ninny." he said with a chuckle.

Benny laughed.

"Mark, you're grieving. You're not a ninny. Tonight, anyways." he teased.

Mark growled at him.

Benny threw his napkin at him.

Mark caught it and threw it on the table.

"Thanks." he said quietly, looking to his feet.

"For what?" Benny questioned.

Mark looked up at him.

"For helping me. For taking me in." he replied.

Benny smiled brightly.

Mark swallowed, looking around.

"I need another drink." he commented.

Benny stood, reaching out to tap Mark on his shoulder.

"Vodka?" he asked.

Mark nodded, watching as he slunk over to the bartable.

He slumped back in his seat, sighing.

He looked up at the ceiling, watching the fans spin.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that, only that Benny had to snap his fingers a few times to get his attention.

"Earth calls, Mark." Benny said, shoving the Vodka bottle into his hands.

"Not too sure on giving you that." he admitted as Mark hastily popped the top, downing the bottle in seconds flat.

Mark shook his head.

"Let's dance!" he said, standing, reaching out and taking Benny's hands in his in an attempt to pull him from his chair.

Benny blanched.

"On the dance floor? Mark...no." he said, pulling his hands back.

Mark fell onto him drunkenly, his words slurred.

"C'mon, Benknee. Benny. Ben-ja-min." he said, his face buried in the nape of Benny's neck.

Benny pushed him off.

Mark wobbled in his place.

"Benny?" he said softly.

Benny raised his eyebrows in question.

Mark narrowed his eyes, swallowing.

"Why is the world spinning?" he asked, falling back into Benny's arms.

"I'm cutting you off, Mark. We're going home." Benny said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a dollar bill that would serve as the tip tonight.

Setting it on the table, he wrapped his right arm around Mark's waist, pulling him straight.

"Do you need to make a stop?" he asked, cocking his head towards the bathroom door.

Mark opened his mouth, but didn't speak.

"Not yet, I see." Benny said hastily, rolling his eyes and pulling Mark towards the bar's exit.

Getting Mark upstairs was a daunting task.

Mark was near passed-out level in Benny's arms, refusing to cooperate.

"Damn it, Mark, one foot forward. It's not that fucking hard!" Benny hissed, letting Mark lean against the railing.

Mark pointed at him, smirking.

"You puff up when you snert." he said, throwing his head back in laughter.

Benny sighed, pulling back to the opposite side of the stairs.

"You want to sleep on the stairs tonight, Mark? Is that it?" he questioned, crossing his hands over his chest.

Mark brought his head back up.

"No. Why would I wnat to do that?" he replied soberly.

Benny smiled slightly.

"Then get your ass up the stairs. You're awake enough to do that." he mentioned.

Mark growled, rolling his eyes and beginning to slump up the stairs.

"You're a bastard, you know that?" he questioned as they reached the base of their floor.

He leaned against the wall.

Benny only smiled.

"Talk like that, and I'll keep you awake!" he threatened.

Mark snorted, pushing his way through the loft door, stumbling over to the couch and rolling his way onto it.

He curled up into a ball, sniffling.

Benn stopped at his feet, taking off his coat and throwing it onto him.

"We're not leaving tonight, are we?" he questioned.

Mark only sobbed in response, wet tears sliding down his cheek.

"I'll be here tomorrow. Have your things packed. Call me if you need anything beforehand." Benny offered, leaning forward to ruffle Mark's hair.

Mark pulled away, curling himself into the fetal position.

Benny headed towards the door, looking back to Mark, who called out his name.

"Thanks." Mark whispered hoarsely.

"For what? Getting you drunk?" Benny teased.

Mark laughed.

"For listening." he said, closing his eyes and quickly falling asleep.

Benny nodded, quietly slipping out the door.

Mark tossed and turned in his sleep as his dreams became vivid memories.


	6. Chapter 6

_It was the day he met Roger._

_The first day of high school._

_He was nothing but a puny camera boy in a school full of jocks and preps._

_He was alone, sitting on a bench, his camera set beside him, tucked safely against him._

_He spotted Roger across the way, leaning against an oak tree, a cigarette hanging from his mouth._

_He almost looked handsome._

_For Mark to admit that would be blasphamy._

_He picked up his camera, brought it to his eye, and began filming Roger Davis, not knowing who he was, knowing only his reputation as a formidable Sex God._

_He blushed as Roger looked his way, throwing the cigarette to the grass and stomping it out._

_"Oh, no." he said, setting his camera safely onto the bench as Roger made his way over to him._

_He looked at the textbook in his hands, hoping he played his innocence well._

_"Hey." Roger said, looming over Mark, who looked up and found himself entranced by Green Eyes._

_"You were filming me." Roger stated, eyeing the camera._

_Mark pulled is close to himself protectively._

_Roger chuckled._

_"I'm not going to take it, if that's what you think." he spoke, sliding in next to Mark on the bench._

_"I'm Roger." he said, holding out his hand._

_Mark stared at it blankly before taking it into his own._

_"Mark. Mark Cohen." he said, pulling back from Roger's tight grasp._

_"You a filmmaker?" Roger asked, reaching out to the camera._

_  
Reluctantly, Mark let him take it into his hands._

_"Be careful." he said, blushing as Roger caught his eyes._

_Roger held the camera eye level, cranking the arm, listening to the camera whir._

_"Mark Cohen, what is it you wish to pursue with this camera? Something degrading to young women, perhaps?" he teased, zooming in on Mark's blue eyes._

_Mark blanched._

_Roger chuckled, bringing the camera down from his eyes._

_"You're in my music appreciation class, aren't you?" he queried, watching as Mark briskly took the camera into his arms and rested it on his lap._

_Mark nodded._

_"You don't seem the type. Music an' all." Roger commented._

_Mark smiled._

_"I like all the arts. Filming is just top priority." he retorted._

_Roger chuckled._

_"Oh, no. You have that wrong. Music is top priority." he teased with a wink._

_"Oh, that's right. I heard you talk about your guitar in class one day. It really means a lot to you, doesn't it?" Mark asked._

_Roger blushed._

_"She's my baby." he replied, continuing to brush._

_Mark overlooked the blush, looking to his camera._

_"I think I know what you mean."_


	7. Chapter 7

Mark awoke with a start, eyes darting to and fro. 

He sat up, letting Benny's jacket slide to the floor.

He brought his watch into his line of vision, taking in the time.

It was only six in the morning.

Two hours past when Benny and he were at the bar.

He groaned as his headache enlarged.

He let out a sigh as he leaned back onto the couch.

"Fuck, Roger. You didn't even say goodbye." he said.

He slammed his fist onto the coffee table, the noise echoing through his brain.

"You didn't give me a fucking chance!" he cried out, growling.

He stood, no longer able to keep still.

He paced from the end of the couch to the kitchen and back again.

Looking down at his watch, he realized he had been doing this for a full hour.

There was a knock at the door, disturbing his thoughts.

"Pookie? Are you up?" Maureen's voice drifted through.

Mark sighed, cringing at the effect his moves had on his brain.

"Just get in here." he said with a sneer, falling to the couch, covering his eyes as Maureen ran over to the window, pulling the shade open, letting in the bright sunshine.

"My little ray of sunshine." she cooed, reaching out to ruffle Mark's hair.

Mark pulled away.

"Don't." he pleaded, falling to a lying position.

Maureen narrowed her eyes.

"What's wrong, Pookie?" she asked, forcing herself space on the couch next to him.

Mark rolled his eyes.

"I'm not in the mood for visitors today, Mo." he replied tortily.

Maureen ran her hand along his left leg.

"We need to get you packed, I thought." she whispered.

Mark groaned.

"Benny's coming later...I think." he retorted, frowning.

Maureen pouted her lips.

"Joanne invited you to brunch at the Cafe." she stated.

Mark snarled.

"No flow." he replied.

Maureen frowned.

"Marky, you're hungover." she whispered.

Mark flushed.

"No, no I'm not." he lied.

Maureen sighed.

"Mark, I know you, and you're hungover. You went out drinking last night!" she exclaimed.

Mark rolled his eyes.

"So what if I did?" he queried testily.

Maureen just shrugged.

"It's not like you to get drunk." she commented.

"I needed it, Mo. When I drink, the world around me melts. The negativity disappears." Mark argued.

Marueen snorted.

"No, when you drink, the world becomes nothing but false colors." she hissed.

Mark sighed.

"Well, Mo, I'd rather see false color than deal with reality right now." he hissed.

Maureen patted his leg softly.

"Come with me and Joanne to the Cafe." she pleaded.

Mark sighed, bringing his hand to his head and rubbing at his temple, a sign of succombing.

Maureen squealed giddily.

"Up, up!" she exclaimed, pulling Mark up quickly, despite his objections.

"Maureen, lower your voice." he cried out, cringing.

Maureen chuckled.

"What? What, you're going to have to speak up!" she yelled, winking.

Mark growled at her.

"Oh, sexy." Maureen teased, linking arms with Mark and leading him to the door.

"You are in for a treat! Joanne said anything you want is on her." she said, throwing open the door and literally dragging Mark out of it.

Upon reaching Joanne's car, Mark flinched away from Maureen's grasp.

"Oh, the sun." he groaned, watching as Maureen opened the back door for Mark, moving to the side as he climbed in.

He slid comfortably in the seat, rubbing his head as Maureen shut her door, the sun glaring off the window.

"Hey, Mark." Joanne said nimbly, glancing at Mark through the rearview window as she pulled from her spot and began the drive.

Mark nodded at her.

Joanne narrowed her eyes as she caught the tired expression on the filmmaker's face.

"Maureen, you _woke_ him?" she exclaimed pointedly.

Maureen blushed.

"You said by all means." she retorted.

Joanne rolled her eyes, tapping her fingers lightly on the steering wheel.

"I didn't mean wake him from slumber, honey." she said through gritted teeth.

Mark looked up at the two.

"Didn't even acknowledge my hang...oh." he said, pausing as he realized his words.

Joanne only smiled.

"Hangover, honey? Here, have some water." she said, reaching into the cup holder, grabbing the bottle of water that sat in it, and offering it back to Mark, who took it, popped the top, and sipped at it graciously.

"You sure you're up to eat?" Joanne questioned as they pulled into the Life Cafe parking lot.

Mark shrugged.

"Maureen can deal with the mess." he said with a wink.

Maureen's jaw dropped.

"Excuse me!" she screeched, causing Mark to cover his ears with his hands, groaning.

"Maureen..." Joanne warned.

Maureen sighed.

"Whatever." she said, opening the door and exiting, slamming it shut behind her.

Mark cringed.

Joanne exited her side and opened the door for Mark.

"Sorry." she apologized for Maureen.

Mark shrugged as he stepped out of the car.

"You sure you're okay with this? God, Maureen should have just let you be. She doesn't think!" Joanne exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air in frustration.

Mark laughed as he began to match her pace.

"No, that she doesn't." he said.

Maureen looked back at Mark and Joanne.

"C'mon, hurry, hurry! Brunch starts!" she exclaimed loudly.

Mark narrowed his eyes in disgust.

"Seriously, what goes down will come up, and she's cleaning it." he insisted as Joanne and he slipped into the Cafe.

Joanne chuckled, patting Mark lightly on his shoulder.

"With a toothbrush." she said with a wink.


	8. Chapter 8

Sliding into a booth across from Maureen, Mark smiled as Joanne was pulled to her lap. 

"At least drink a tea." Joanne pleaded, ignoring the fact that Maureen was placing soft and gentle kisses on the nape of her neck.

Mark bit at his lower lip.

Joanne pulled away from Maureen.

"Maureen, honey...slow down. Stop. Halt. Freeze." she threatened.

Maureen pouted, pushing out her lower lip.

At that moment, the waiter appeared.

"And what will you fine specimens be eating today?" he questioned, sliding into the booth next to Mark, smiling brightly.

Mark blushed, looking to Maureen and Joanne.

"A pasta. Any pasta." Maureen replied.

Joanne quickly glanced at the menu that sat on the table.

"Tofu salad." she said, eyeing Mark.

"Just a tea." Mark spoke, nodding at the waiter who, after writing all this down, slipped back out of the booth, bouncing to the counter.

"Come on, Marky! Eat something! You can have some of my pasta." Maureen said in a squeaky voice.

Mark cringed.

"Maureen, do you really want to be cleaning up pasta off the bathroom floor?" Joanne asked hastily.

Maureen frowned.

"Fine. Starve. I don't care." she said, turning the other cheek.

Joanne rolled her eyes.

Mark let out a slight chuckle.

He heard the Cafe doors open and saw Benny enter, heading their way.

"Tell me you're not planning on feeding him!" Benny exclaimed, plopping next to Mark.

Mark laughed.

"Jo's not. Don't know about Mo, though." he replied.

Benny shook his head.

"Maureen, come on. He's not going to hold it down, and I figure Joanne will be making _you_ clean it up." he teased.

Maureen growled low in her throat.

Benny turned to Mark.

"And to think, you slept with this one." he whispered.

Joanne kicked at his leg underneath the table.

Benny quickly looked at her, holding back a laugh.

"I know! Let's play a game, shall we?" he asked.

Mark, Joanne, and Maureen looked at him in confusion.

"What? It's dull with talk of hangovers and puking. Let's put some fun into this." Benny retorted, crossing his hands over his chest.

"How about a game of Confession?" he went on, blinking.

Joanne smiled brightly.

"I like the sound of that. I'm in." she said, placing her arms around Maureen, who nodded in agreement.

Mark only blushed, glaring at Benny.

"What are you on, boy?" he questioned.

Benny smiled a toothy grin.

"Everything!" he replied, wrapping his arm around Mark's shoulder, pulling him close, whispering into his ear.

"An easy way 'out' for you, Marky."

Mark shoved him away.

"Excuse me? I have no clue what you are talking about." he lied.

Benny only shook his head.

"Let's began, my friends." he suggested.

"First date." he began.

Joanne let out a throaty laugh.

"First date? With some girl named Nanette. Gorgeous girl, but not so great in the sack." she replied.

Mark's jaw dropped.

"Please don't tell me that your Nanette was Nanette Hemmelfaurb." he pleaded.

Maureen snorted.

Joanne frowned, placing her hand on her girlfriend's knee.

"That would be Nanette." Joanne replied.

Benny sighed.

"Mark, what is it with your attraction to Lesbians, eh?" he teased, punching Mark softly in the shoulder.

Mark rolled his eyes.

"Maureen? First date." Benny asked.

Maureen pursed her lips as if in a great concentration of thought.

"Roger." she said simply.

Mark raised his eyebrows.

"Roger!" he exclaimed.

Maureen nodded.

"Roger. It didn't work out between us. There was nothing there but sexual energy. I wanted more than a 'Sex God'. I wanted comittment." she retorted.

Mark shook his head.

"And then I met you." Maureen sauntered on.

Benny licked at his lips.

"Where we all know there was everything _but_ the sex drive." he teased.

Mark blushed.

"Can we move on, now?" he objected.

Benny nodded.

"Go for it. First date." he retorted.

"Maureen. First date." Mark replied.

"What about Nanette?" Maureen queried.

Mark blanched.

"Nanette was nothing but a...one night stand." he replied under his breath.

"Okay, that got interesting." Joanne exclaimed.

"How about this for a topic: Your first crush on someone of the same sex." Benny asked.

Maureen and Joanne only stared at him.

"Easy for you two. Not so easy for Mark and I...well, I." Benny commented.

Joanne bit at her lower lip.

"The first time I ever felt an attraction to a female was with Cindy Hopper, my sister's best friend in middle school." she replied.

Maureen shrugged.

"Joanne. Joanne was the first and the only girl in my life." she replied.

Joanne squeezed her knee.

"As it should be." she said with a wink.

Benny looked to Mark, who shrugged.

"For me...I believe the first time I ever looked at a male in anything other than a brotherly way was when I met Mark." Benny spoke.

Mark's eyes widened as he casually slid away from Benny.

Maureen cackled.

"Oh, really? When was this?" she questioned.


End file.
